


Clingy

by BridgeToTheSky



Series: Somebody To Love - Naruto Edition [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, like squint and you'll see it, mindless smut, old smut, the tiniest fluff imaginable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:26:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22758496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgeToTheSky/pseuds/BridgeToTheSky
Summary: Zabuza puts up with a lot, but you leaving without announcing where you've gone is where he draws the line.
Relationships: Momochi Zabuza/Reader
Series: Somebody To Love - Naruto Edition [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/196370
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	Clingy

Zabuza pierces the floor with his sword, the weapon slicing through the vulnerable wood with a sharp _splick_ , like metal through bone.

“Come here, _woman._ ”

The command is rough but, fortunately for you, instead of the syllables thick with aggression they are laced with lust. You do as you’re asked. His hands reached forward, hands dig into your waist and pull you forward, and you’re crushed to his cool, strong form before you know it. 

Zabuza’s mouth finds yours — steals yours, more like. His hand holds the back of your head, fisting your hair, holding you in place to him. You mewl into the kiss as his tongue infiltrates the entrance of your mouth. You open your mouth for him, giving him ample space to explore all he wants. His tongue flicks against yours and you can taste the leftover tang of your morning tea on him.

Your hands explore the pads of Zabuza’s shoulders — taut and scarred and rugged, just like the rest of him. Your hands slide forward to experience the lanes of his back. Your finger hooks the hem of his tank, pulling it upwards in a futile attempt at removing it.

You hear Zabuza growl into the kiss before he releases you, yanking the tank off him himself. He stands, forcing you to the bed. Your knees bend and you fall. He reaches forward and unzips your jacket, revealing nothing but some fishnet and a bra underneath.

Your eyes skim over his form — you can see the true brutalization, the symbol of all his trials, from the scars and marks and angry slashes that mark his shoulders, abdomen, and stomach. 

You’re also made aware of the strength of his form, too; the muscles taut underneath his skin …

Zabuza comes to you. His eyes are trained on your flimsy excuse for an undergarment. This is never his favorite part and you know this; you yank the fishnet away, then your hands go to your back, unhooking the piece and flinging it elsewhere. His hands are on you in seconds, one of his fingers hooking against the elastic of your panties and forcing them down to your legs, allowing you to do the rest of the work to wiggle out of them. 

A rare grin comes on to his face. “That’s more like it …” 

He leans against you — then over you as his knees and one of his hands comes to support him. 

“Zabuza …”

Now, a smirk. 

You place your hands on either sides of him as your back hits the mattress. Zabuza’s lips have taken to your neck, ravaging the skin there, and you feel what will later become a hickey form, how, despite his desire to ravage you, he is aware of his razor-sharp teeth and the damage they can cause to skin as soft, as gentle as yours. You arch as he nipped at your flush, mouth wide in an “ah …!” as Zabuza’s arms rest on either side of your head, imprisoning you in the embrace.

“If you choose to leave for as long as you did,” he begins at your ear, and you can almost feel the tip of one of his razor teeth against your shell, “you notify me. Understand?” 

You nod before understanding, with a soft growl from your partner, that it will not be enough and add a, “Yes,” before Zabuza props himself upward, now settling above you instead of on top. 

“Turn over,” he orders. 

Another order you follow without question. You’re on your back now, clueless to what Zabuza’s next move is. So that’s what’s prompted this little session — your unspoken for absence? You allow yourself a little smile. _Aw, he missed me,_ you think, half sardonic, with only a hinge of seriousness. 

You hear Zabuza lift himself, the ruffling of fabric that you are sure are his being shoved off and pooling to the floor. 

What is next is the feel of his manhood against the bridge of your ass, his heated instrument throbbing softly against your skin. 

“Mmm …” You can’t help announcing your excitement, but you try to keep your tongue from slipping in between your teeth, in fear you might bite it off in reaction to the next installment of this little session.

You feel his member travel downward, sliding ever so lightly past your crack, to the slip of your lips. 

“Perhaps you need to learn what happens …” Zabuza hisses. 

And he enters you — and _oh_ , you’re not nearly as wet as you should be, but the sensation of Zabuza filling you makes you perk up. You hear his dark chuckle from behind, his hands coming to guide your hips toward his cock for the very first thrust. 

“Urgh — _s_ _hit,_ ” Zabuza’s voice is stressed, his hips thrusting into you with an adequate rhythm now, the creaking of the mattress coinciding with each collective slap that came with the contact of skin against skin. 

You lean forward now, your ass now entirely within Zabuza’s possession. You feel his rough, calloused fingers sink into the meat of your behind as he continues to guide himself into you. You release a gasp, mouth agape. You feel the bedsheets brush against the side of your mouth as Zabuza’s thrusts quicken, _harshen_. 

You feel the rush, the tightness — and you wonder if he can feel it, too, but you also cannot find it in you to string together a coherent set of thoughts as you clench against Zabua’s hard, moistened length.

“Zabuza, fuck, oh, **_please_ **—!” You scream, the rhythm becoming too much for you to handle. Pleasure expands inside of you, leaving you trembling with the rush it brings. 

You hear Zabuza give a low growl, meet his end and slam against you — then again, his rhythm shattering into a series of quick thrusts before slacking against you. 

Your orgasm continues to sing, the aches you receive soften. Zabuza finds it in himself to leave your womanhood and sinks to the side. You press your legs together, enjoying the gentle convulsions your vagina gives due to the over-sensitivity of your clit. 

Zabuza realizes what you’re doing and laughs. He watches you collapse to his side. You look up at him and notice that some of his previous roughness has subsided. 

You smile up at him. 

You smooth your hand over his chest, catching his attention. He startles as much as it is possible for him — _Zabuza_ — to startle at your touch. 

His hums a playful warning in his throat. “Don’t test me, _woman …_ ”

You giggle, graze a finger over one of his nipples.

Zabuza raises his eyebrows, impressed. “You want to keep going, is that it?” 

You grin, before giving a slight nod. 

Zabuza registers your request, his expression turns decidedly smug. “Hmph, fine.” 

He rises. You take his place on the bed as he stands before you, taking his cock in his hands, guiding it toward you. 

“Don’t bite me.” 

The command is so left-field you laugh. “When have I ever?” 

Zabuza gives the impression that he wants to answer, but doesn’t —

Just long enough for you to take the head of his cock into your mouth.

“Urghhh …!” 

Zabuza’s hand marries itself clumsily into your hair, tightens his grasp on the back of your head as you make a meal of his cock. Your hand and mouth create a rhythm, your nails gently skimming over the skin of his shaft with each stroke. He forces his hand against your head, pushing you forward — you gag, but only for a second before he loosens his hold on you, the softer grasp his only apology.

You widen your mouth, giving space for your tongue to come and swirl around as much of his length as you could manage. With a soft groan, you felt Zabuza twitch in your palm, and you knew this would not last much longer — not if you were going to remain so creative …

You popped him from your mouth only to devour him again. You cracked an eye open to see what kind of effect you were having on the swordsman, only to see the bedsheet strangled in his other fist. 

You close your eyes again, focusing solely on his cock now; holding him in a tight grasp, you sucked against him again, your other hand coming to trail your nails softly against his balls —

With a frustrated grunt, Zabuza forces you off of him. In a series of movements that transpire within seconds, you are beneath him, looking up into crazed eyes.

“Legs around me,” he says. “ _Now._ ”

Once again, you know this is no time to disobey orders; you do as he says. Zabuza positions himself clumsily against you and finds himself inside you with a soft grunt. You squeeze your eyes shut, choke out some sort of cousin of a sigh as you feel him pulse inside of you the very moment of entrance. 

He forces himself against you in a hard thrust. He buries his face into your neck, and even in your reverie you can tell he is so very tempted to bite you with those teeth, taste the frazzled, heated blood underneath your skin, but he transfers his desire into another hard thrust against you.

You hold tight to him as he finds his rhythm. “Zabuza … hu — ugh!” you lose your voice as he finds your clit and begins to circle it with a hand.

Soon, the air fills once again with the sound of skin against skin, the grunts against your ear, the heated whispers against his own.

“More …!” You say. 

It is the only command you will ever be allowed to give him; Zabuza begins to thrust wildly into you, raising his head high. You can feel your own orgasm begin to climb. Again. _Oh, Zabuza._ You tighten your legs around him, cling to him unabashedly as your climax finally falls over you. With a drawn-out whine, you finish, muscles clenching around Zabuza as he, himself, climaxes against you, filling you with his heated seed. His hand comes to lose itself in your hair as you twitch against him, rocking against him in hopes of riding your orgasm out for as long as you can.

Even as Zabuza leans over you, his form crushing yours, you still cling to him. On any other day, there would be a third time, even a fourth, but you can tell that this round is, for now, the last. You feel Zabuza swipe the sweat-drops from your neck with his tongue. 

“Mmm …” the sound rumbles in his throat; you can sense the lethargy in him. 

“Haku must be wondering where we are by now …” You say, releasing Zabuza.

His only response is a grunt. He rises, and a sense of pride swells in you when you watch him gain his bearings. I’m sure he’d like a nap right about now, but it wouldn't be like Zabuza to admit it. You watch him dress, saying nothing to you.

Only once does he turn to you, after a few seconds of pure quiet. The wood underneath his feet creaks as he approaches. He halts suddenly, and you’re sure he is about to say something, before turning away from you and making way for the door.

“Be ready when I return,” he says, before exiting the room rather unceremoniously.

When the door shuts, you let your head fall against the headboard. 

_Don’t worry, Zabu,_ you think, leaving bed seconds later, _I will be._

**Author's Note:**

> This is so old lmaoo. Please forgive me for any tense mistakes you see; I seldom write in present tense and this was obviously an experiment. I hope it's not distracting ^_^
> 
> I didn't even think I'd finish this because it's been so long but I figured why not! Zabuza's not nearly as loved up on as he should be so how can I pass up the opportunity to let him shine lmao. Hope y'all like!


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